


Opportune

by thegreatgayjatsby



Series: Involvement [2]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander joins the fun, BDSM, Charles has PTSD from his imprisonment with the British, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Facials, He uses BDSM with Aaron to cope, M/M, Period Typical Ableism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Charles interacts with Washington for the first time since the Monmouth Incident, and Burr is in temporarily unavailable to help calm him afterwards. He sends Hamilton in his stead, than joins them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinksideways](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinksideways/gifts).



> 1\. I have PTSD, professionally diagnosed, so I feel comfortable writing Charles with it.   
> 2\. This is all 100% consensual.  
> 3\. Charles likes to be dominated in order to calm down.  
> 4\. Alex is like :0   
> 5\. The boys all have a swell time. 
> 
> Also this is all thinksideway's fault and I love them for it.

Charles did not often venture far from Burr’s tent when the sun began to creep below the horizon at the end of the day. He was very aware that he wasn’t exactly held in the highest of standings throughout the camp. In fact, he was very aware that he was preferred dead by the majority of the continental army. He had failed miserably, even if, in his retreat, he had saved thousands of lives. The attack had been too disorganized, and by pulling back his forces long enough for Washington to arrive with the more formally trained battalions, he’d saved many men. The continental army did not see his actions that way. They saw him as a coward, or a traitor.

Lee’s court martial had gone well enough. He suspected Washington let him off lightly personally, and the notion bothered him a little. He didn’t need or expect special treatment. But, he’d been suspended from the army for a year. The suspension was only due to his own stubborn pride. He was the one who had demanded the court martial in the first place, after all. It was his fault for getting into a screaming match with Washington on the battlefield.

He hadn’t told anyone, but the camp doctor suspected his mind was touched from his time spent under British imprisonment. He hadn’t been on the Jersey, thank Christ, but he had been treated rather roughly, general or not. Returning to the continental army and taking back his post had probably not been in his best interest. He was lucky he hadn’t collapsed on the battlefield, as he was wont to do, now, sometimes. He often was brought out of the present and into the past. His mind recalled his imprisonment with vivid detail. It left him trembling when he returned to the present.

It was during one of these episodes, his mind blank, that Burr had found him, shaking, and curled in the stables, where he had been grooming a horse. Being close to animals settled him, and although it hadn’t prevented this attack, he’d been successfully keeping the majority at bay.

Burr paused upon seeing him, eyes wide, the missive in his hand crumpling slightly from the sheer surprised that crossed through him. Charles felt weak, felt foolish, knowing that Burr was going to run to Washington and tell the General that he was mentally infirm, and he trembled, tears streaking down his face, until suddenly Burr was kneeling beside him and enveloping him in a hug.

The lieutenant wasn’t fond of touch, and Lee stiffened in his arms, worried that he would evoke a negative reaction. When Burr didn’t withdraw, Charles curled into him and wept, face pressed to his shoulder, his whole slight form shaking. When he had gathered himself, they adjourned to Burr’s tent, and Charles slept the entire night through in Burr’s cot for the first time in weeks.

Ever since, he’d been slowly moving into Aaron’s tent. The lieutenant was a private man, and Charles didn’t have any friends to hide from, so their budding relationship went well. The first time he had run his mouth about something and they’d gotten into a fight, he found himself bent over Burr’s desk and fucked senseless. From there, Burr decided to begin training Lee to behave.

The sessions where Aaron instructed him helped Charles immensely. He was able to leave his own frantic head and settle into a submissive attitude, and the sexual release relaxed him. He mellowed out, the fear from his time of imprisonment beginning to melt away into hindsight. His attacks of memories from the past became less and less frequent.

Aaron wished him luck before his court martial, and when he was suspended, allowed him to completely move into his tent. Charles set their cots together and draped them with his blankets, creating them a larger space on which to sleep and explore one another. Aaron was a careful and attentive lover. When Lee announced he was dueling Laurens, Burr appraised him carefully before declaring himself Lee’s second. Charles was floored by his solidarity.

Burr had cried when they were curled together in the medical tent after Charles was wounded. Aaron had held him and made him swear to stop instigating. Charles promised to do his best. As soon as he could walk with help, Burr had bundled him back to his tent and kept him there while he recovered.

His side still bothered him, especially when it rained, and he still wore bandages, but the wound no longer bled, and screamed like it did when he’d first been shot. Charles managed well enough on his own. However, he stayed in his tent, most of the time, avoiding the accusatory and hateful gazes of the rest of the troops.

Aaron had withdrawn from bed a while ago, kissing him sweetly and saying he’d be back after he and the other higher-ranking commanders had their report with Washington. Burr hurried off into the fading sunlight, and Charles watched him go with fondness written across his face. Of course, the lieutenant, in his rush, had forgotten his papers.

Charles rolled his eyes, and lifted them cautiously. His fingers itched to unfurl the documents and pore over the war effort—which he had been denied from doing these last weeks since the Monmouth Incident—but he ignored the urge and shouldered into his plainclothes jacket. His military frock hung in Burr’s wardrobe, but he wasn’t confident enough to wear it again. Not if he was going to venture outside in the dusk.

With his coat in place, Charles slipped from Burr’s tent, documents in hand. He held his head high, regardless of the sting in his side, and strode purposefully down the aisle of tents. He clenched his jaw when he passed a campfire and the soldiers around it went silent. He could feel their eyes, hard, on his back, as he continued on his way.

Anxiety bubbled in his chest, and he quickened his pace. Washington’s tent was lit from the inside, and Charles arrived there in record time. He inhaled a little, securing his nerves, and smoothed his coat down, then stepped inside.

It had been many days since last his face had been seen for most of the commanders, and he felt heat rising in his cheeks. He and Washington had not lain eyes upon one another since they had exchanged verbal blows on the battlefield. Lee’s face had been streaked with blood, his eyes wild like a beast’s, and he knew he had appeared all of a madman.

The men around the table in the center of the tent seemed shocked by his presence, and he sidled along the edge of the tent until he reached Burr. The lieutenant accepted his papers, murmuring a thank you to Lee. Charles turned, slinking back towards the entrance, before a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“General Lee,” Washington greeted, voice as gravelly as always.

Charles stamped down on the fear rising steadily within him. It was fine, Aaron was here. He turned on his heel and nodded respectfully to the General, not meeting his gaze. “It’s just Lee now, Your Excellency.”

Lee could almost feel Burr’s pride at his humble response from across the space. He swallowed tightly, and fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve.

“How is your wound?” Washington asked conversationally, and Charles glanced briefly at the aide de camp at his side.

Hamilton peered at him with suspicion written across his face. Charles only knew there was embarrassment underlying there since he was looking for it. He was certain Hamilton still imagined him on his knees, face splattered with cum, the barrel of Burr’s pistol in his mouth. His eyes flicked to Washington.

“Much improved, sir. It doesn’t bother me any longer.” That was a lie, and Burr raised a brow.

Washington smiled, and Charles felt like the Lord had blessed him. “Very good. I hear you have taken up residence with Lieutenant Burr.”

He stated it like a question, and Charles nodded. “Yes, I—I technically am no longer in possession of a tent myself, and the Lieutenant was good enough to offer a place in his.” He chose his words carefully, eyes returning to his boots.

“I see.” Washington sounded thoughtful, and Charles stood quietly. “You are comfortable?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.” Charles swallowed again, mouth dry, and looked back up. He met Washington’s solid gaze, and said, “More than I deserve.”

The answer seemed to surprise the General, and he responded, “Good, good.” The words seemed to dismiss Charles, and he turned, taking quick steps to the tent entrance.

Washington called him back. “Charles,” He spoke quietly, but Lee felt another little spike of fear. “What do you think of the camp moving to West Point?”

Charles took paused, carefully evaluating the situation. He thought it a foolish idea to move camp, seeing as they were already set up in a strategically acceptable position here. “I think if Your Excellency presumes it the best course of action, it should be taken.” He said slowly, casting a wary glance at the other members of the higher command.

Washington smiled again, inclining his chin subtly. “Thank you for your input. You are dismissed.”

Charles felt like he was retreating when he left the tent. He rushed to return to Burr’s tent, and when he arrived, he kicked out of his boots, shouldered out of his coat, and curled up on the bed. It stressed him, badly, to have spoken to Washington like that. He could still feel their eyes on him.

He could sense his mind wavering, returning to thoughts of his imprisonment. He gripped a handful of his cropped hair and struggled to breathe in even gasps. Aaron wasn’t here for him right now. He couldn’t always be there, and he whimpered quietly, tugging harder at his hair. His scalp hurt, and he wrapped his other arm tight around his middle, pressing his free hand against the bandages that had grown familiar to him.

Charles dug his fingers against the bullet wound, and he sunk his teeth into his lower lip to muffle a cry as pain burst from the contact. He didn’t noticed when the flap of Burr’s tent opened. He did, however, noticed when a hand came down, gently, upon his arm.

He turned, vision blurry with unshed tears. Hamilton was crouched beside the cot, his brows drawn together with concern. Charles wanted to laugh in his face and disappear. This was exactly what he needed. He was out of his submissive headspace, his own mind betraying him, Aaron was nowhere to be found, and a man who presumably wanted him dead was here.

Lee let out a strangled little cackle, digging his fingers harder against his side. Alexander intercepted his hand, tugging it away. Charles fought him, sitting up and struggling against the immigrant’s grip. Hamilton was stronger than Lee expected, and when he released his hair to shove at the aide de camp, he found himself swiftly pinned to the cot, his arms stretched above his head, Alexander’s hands holding his wrists tightly.

Charles thrashed, and Hamilton shoved his legs apart, settling between them and using his body to hold the disgraced General down. Lee tired himself soon enough, eventually going lax under Hamilton. He panted, eyes narrowed, and glared up at the other. Hamilton glared back for a minute, then softened slightly.

“Burr asked me to come check on you. He figured since I never said anything about the other night that he could trust me alone with you.” Hamilton’s voice was rough as he provided the explanation, breathing a little labored from the effort he’d exerted in their scuffle.

Lee snorted derisively and turned away. “Yeah, and you took him up on it so you could come here and mock me. You hate me, I know, I’m a _fucking coward_. I hear what they say.” Charles voice rose in pitch as he spoke, growing more incensed. “They say to ship me off to General Howe and let him use me as they see fit. They think me worth nothing more than a _whore_.” He spat, kicking the leg on the unwounded side of his body up to try and knock Hamilton off balance.

Hamilton growled lowly and held him tighter. They touched from knee to chest, and Lee quickly ceased his efforts again. He was too disorganized, too panicked. This was ending up just like Monmouth. He whined softly, squirming, only to find Hamilton’s forehead touched to his.

Lee’s breath caught, and Hamilton said, “Burr told me to do as I saw fit to calm you if you were upset.” The aide de camp’s voice was quiet, but firm, and Lee felt a tingle of pleasure run up his spine.

“That so? What am I, being shared now?” Charles ignored the heat rushing between his legs, and gave another hearty wriggle, attempting to dislodge Hamilton.

Hamilton collected both of Lee’s wrists into one hand and bowed to murmur into his neck, “No. I’m just keeping you occupied until Burr gets through with the meeting.” He sank his teeth into Charles’ neck, and Lee’s back bowed, his hips lifting into Hamilton’s, as a breathy moan left him.

The response was immediate. Once Hamilton had marked him to his satisfaction, he pulled back. Charles’ lips were parted slightly, his face flushed. His body was relaxing, slowly, the tension seeping out. Alex could feel it. He touched his forehead to Lee’s again. “Good,” He breathed, and Charles’ good leg lifted to curl over the small of Alex’s back.

Lee rolled his hips up, wanton now that he knew he had Aaron’s blessing to let go. He found himself falling into headspace so hard it made him dizzy, and he turned his face aside. Hamilton ground his hips into Lee’s, and Charles was thrilled to find the immigrant growing hard in his breeches.

He used the leverage with his leg to pull Hamilton into him, shifting eagerly. Hamilton laughed softly, releasing Charles’ wrists to touch his sides. Charles wrapped his arms around Hamilton’s neck, rutting himself up against him with abandon. Hamilton groaned, turning to kiss at Lee’s neck.

Lee whimpered, greedy in his movements, and buried his hands in Alexander’s hair. Alex bit at his pulsepoint, just under his jaw, and settled into a rhythm with him. It was mindless and easy, and Charles found himself lost, edging closer to his limit. Alex, careful to avoid his wound, held him tightly and ground against him.

They stayed like that, working at each other, for some time. Lee’s face was flushed and hot, his cock leaking into his breeches, when the sound of someone clearing their throat reached his ears. Hamilton stilled above him, and Lee groaned, tugging at his hair to try and get him to move again. Alex looked at Burr, a sheepish expression on his face, and sat up a little. Charles tightened his legs around Alexander’s waist, mewling.

“I see you did as I asked.” Burr stated, a little smirk coming up across his face.

“Uh, y-yeah. He was pretty upset when I got here. We’re lucky I left when I did.” Hamilton’s voice was lower than usual, still thick with pleasure, and held Lee still with his hands on his hips as he spoke. “I think he’s better now, though.”

Aaron nodded in agreement, raking his eyes over Charles’ disheveled form. “Were you good for Alexander?” He asked, addressing the General.

“Yes,” Charles gasped, voice broken, squirming. “Please, _please_ make him keep going, _Aaron, please_ —”

The lieutenant gestured, and Hamilton withdrew completely. Charles wanted to cry. He reached down immediately, completely unashamed, and rubbed the heel of his hand harshly over himself through his breeches. Alex adjusted his clothes, smoothing the front of his shirt down. He was noticeably hard, a little stain having appeared at the front of his own breeches.

Aaron turned to murmur something at Hamilton, and the immigrant looked surprised, then nodded. Burr grinned, and took his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt off. He set the clothes over the back of his chair, removed his boots, then settled onto the cot. Lee bit his lip, watching this whole exchange with great interest as he gripped himself through his breeches.

Burr ran his hands up the insides of Charles’ thighs, spreading his legs. “I’ve got an idea, Charles.” He said nonchalantly, batting Lee’s hand aside to undo his breeches. “How about I fuck you, and you use that pretty mouth of yours to suck Alexander’s cock?”

Charles made a high sound in his throat and nodded, hands shaking as he reached to undo his shirt. Burr assisted, pulling his trousers down and rewarding him with a gentle pass over his entrance with two fingers. Lee whimpered, tears of sheer desperation beading in his eyes.

Hamilton unlaced his breeches, pulling his cock free and pumping it lazily as he watched. Burr helped Charles turn onto his hands and knees, then rummaged in the desk for oil. He returned to his place between Charles’ legs, and Alex joined them sitting just before Charles on the cot.

It sagged beneath their combined weight, but none of them paid any mind. Lee looked over his shoulder, watching Burr from the corners of his eyes as Aaron slicked two fingers. Then, they were being pressed inside of him in one fluid motion, and his back was bowing, his head turning to press against the cot.

Hamilton ran a hand through Charles’ short hair, then used a gentle grip to raise his head. Lee went more than willingly, taking Alex’s cock into his mouth with a low moan. Hamilton groaned and tilted his head back, thrusting his hips shallowly into the wet heat of Lee’s throat.

Burr scissored his fingers, adding another briefly, then removed them. Charles angled himself back at Burr, and received a sharp smack across his ass. He jolted, taking Alex’s cock further down his throat, and made a muffled sound. Hamilton kept his grip in Charles’ hair firm, carefully guiding him to bob over his mouthful.

Aaron gripped both of Lee’s hips in his hands, aligning himself with the General’s entrance. Lee rolled his hips a little, and Aaron pressed in. Charles hollowed his cheeks and moaned. Hamilton’s grip tightened, and he pulled Charles down until his nose was buried in the dark curls around the base of Alexander’s cock.

Burr bottomed out, and Lee was absolutely thrilled to find himself stuffed. He made another pitiful noise, and Aaron began a quick, shallow pace. Charles pulled back to lave his tongue sloppily over the head of Alex’s cock, then let himself be drawn back down. Aaron held his hips in place, fucking him relentlessly.

Lee felt like he was leaving his body. His mind blanked out entirely, and both relief and pleasure washed through him. He swallowed around Alexander’s cock, Aaron’s thrusts pushing him to take Hamilton deeper down his throat. The muscles in Charles’ legs spasmed, and the General clamped down around Burr’s cock.

Aaron growled and fucked him harder, and Charles yanked himself off of Hamilton’s dick in order to shriek. Burr reached up to clamp a hand around Lee’s mouth. He kept his other hand on Charles’ hip, pounding into him, and Hamilton leaned back on his haunches, jerking himself off.

The immigrant came first, moaning lowly as he came across Lee’s face (and Burr’s hand). Lee panted, eyes rolling back, and when Burr fucked up against his sweet spot, came with broken sob. He dropped down off his hands, face pressed against the mattress, and Burr returned to gripping both hips. Charles’ legs splayed out a little, his entire body limp, and Aaron slammed home once more before spilling deep inside him.

The three relaxed, Burr’s cock softening and slipping out of Lee’s pliant body. Hamilton claimed a damp rag from the washbasin and cleaned himself, then offered the cloth to Burr. Burr accepted it, murmuring his thanks, and wiped his own self off. Lee sank to the cot, utterly wrecked, and hummed softly.

Burr met Hamilton’s gaze, and grinned. He stroked a hand over Lee’s ass, watching as he twitched a little. “You were very good, Charles.” He said sweetly, running the rag between Lee’s legs to clean some of the spend that was leaking from him.

Lee whined quietly, nuzzling into the blankets. He took a moment to clean his face of cum with a sheet, then closed his eyes and let himself relax. His mind was quiet, entirely blissed-out, and his body sang with pleasure.

Hamilton and Burr tucked themselves back into their breeches and headed towards the door once Alexander was properly dressed. Charles listened absentmindedly.

“Thank you for getting to him before I could,” Aaron said, voice sincere.

Hamilton huffed out a little laugh. “He put up a fight. Let me know if you need any help training him. I liked that.”

“I’m sure you did.”

The tent rustled, admitting Hamilton into the night, and Burr returned to Lee’s side. He settled onto the cot behind Charles, wrapping his arms around his waist and peppering kisses up the back of his neck. He pet his sides gently, murmuring praise into his ear.

Charles glowed, nestling back into him and curling his toes happily. Aaron drew the blankets up tighter around them, and when Lee turned to look at him, gave him a soft kiss.

“Did you like that?” The lieutenant asked softly, carding fingers through Charles’ hair. “Your wound feeling alright?”

“Yes,” Charles said, voice weak. “I didn’t…I thought Hamilton hated me.”

“No. He hated what you said about Washington.” Burr kissed Charles again, deep and slow. “You handled speaking with him very well, by the way. He was very pleased at your responses. You’re doing excellent, learning to respect people.”

Lee hummed and nuzzled under Burr’s chin, tucking his face against his neck. “Thank you.” He murmured, hands resting on Burr’s chest. “I’m trying. You’re making my mind come back.”

Burr chuckled and kissed the top of Lee’s head. “Good. Are you sure you were okay with Alexander being involved?”

“Yes. I was…panicking, a little, when he got here.” Charles admitted, curling into the blankets more.

“I’m glad I sent him.” Burr murmured. “If I ever do anything you don’t like, let me know.”

“I know, Aaron, I remember.”

“Good.”


End file.
